you gotta be equipped with the lowdown while traversing the high roads of chaos.
Gotta have cars with prayer wheels.
Gotta be drip-dry and permanent-pressed, ready for success while dwelling in the shadows of possible pandemics.
Gotta sport the kevlar of good karma, be Steve McQueen and Beyoncé-cool while battling the reaper whose scythe is made of hate and ignorance.
These days you gotta refuse to be reduced to an illegible back-page obit.
Gotta count the seconds between lightning and thunder to gauge your distance from the divine.
These watermarks on our spine—
dreams still rising.